Saturday, June 18, 2011

This is a REPOST of a blog post I wrote last year. It's worth sharing again.

A father isn't just someone who fertilizes an egg. A father is someone who nurtures their child, loves their child unconditionally, teaches and guides their child to grow up to be responsible adults. A father gives a child a moral compass.

My father was actually my mother when you consider these things. My mother was there for me from the moment I took my first breath until the moment she look her last breath. My mother lived her life for me. I wanted for nothing. Sometimes I sit and think, how did she do it? I am sure my grandmother helped a lot.

When I got married, my mother gave me away. She earned that right. People think that my father is deceased. He isn't. He's alive and he lives close by, however, I really don't seem to have a relationship with him.

When I was young, I would see him during visitations. Most of the time, he would pick me up, take me to my grandparents then come back a few days later and take me home. Later, when he remarried, I did stay with them, but the majority of my quality time was spent with my step-mother, who I love like a sister to this day. I remember her coloring with me and making sure I had my favorite snacks.

When I got older, I stopped idolizing the man, who never seemed to show much interest in me. See, my mom never said a word, she let me figure things out for myself. I am sure it must have hurt her to see how much I put this man up on a pedestal and how time and time again, he would either ignore me or just disappear from my life. I really don't think that he even knows when my birthday is.

He had a son with my first step mother and Nick, my brother, and I stay in touch. He has three beautiful children that I love more than I can ever say. When his second child was born in 2006, I wanted to see the baby. They were all coming to visit my father and I went to his house to see the baby. He resides with his current partner. When I walked into their home, it was one of those homes with a large stairway and the wall going up the stairs was lined with photos, lots and lots of photos. Of kids. I am certain that there wasn't one photo of me. I was the kid that didn't exsist again.

Before my mother passed away, I last saw my father in November of 2006, when my cousin, who was like a father to me passed away. At that time, he promised me that he would stay in touch. I never heard a thing from him until he showed up at the funeral home when my mother passed away. I was very surprised to see him there. I felt comfort and akward at the same time. Someone overheard him tell my brother that he was really going to make an effort to keep in touch this time.

I am not holding my breath. I learned years ago that the only person you can count on is yourself. Let's face it. You can never miss what you never had.